David had waited in the darker shadows of one of the small alleys off Granby between Floyd and Grove avenues. He could see a group of at least twenty slowly lurching, meandering corpses as they milled slowly past the intersection at Grove Avenue, just north of where he tried to casually blend into the darkest parts of the shadows cast by the old row homes that loomed over him.

The general darkness of night in Richmond would have been dark enough to give him confidence in his ability to remain unseen from half a block away. It should have.

But here he was, trying to not conspicuously huddle or otherwise look like he might be hiding or cowering in any way. He knew that “hiding” was the best way to be found.

Anyone engaged in hiding would stand out like midori-green tights, David knew. It was, he had been told by an early mentor a long time ago, all a matter of acting as though one belonged wherever they happened to be. If anything, when one hid correctly, they could be standing in plain sight, but convincing everyone that either A) they belonged there, or B) “No, you’re mistaken, this isn’t me, and I’m not here in any case.”

So he waited.

Standing beneath the dark overhang of a false balcony of a rebuilt brick three century old rowhouse. It was late enough that only a few local bars would be open, but he could still smell the wonderful aromas of the various restaurants that practically lined the south side of Main Street, just two blocks away. While they had all closed earlier in the evening, the exhaust fans of so many eateries continued to air out their kitchens, and with a light northerly breeze blowing, David felt like he was being bathed in the scents of at least twenty different cuisines.

He missed the days of his hectic youth when he worked in his family’s little Greek restaurant. He missed his parents. It was the smell of french fries and that distinct hint of tzatziki wafting through the night air.

He had been shocked back when he had started working for Mr Stark on the side when he had been in grad school the first time, and found out that his father knew Mr Stark. Had known him well, in fact. The diner his grandfather had owned, and his father later expanded, had originally been financed by a loan from Mr Stark.

He shook his head, and sighed as he leaned deeper into the shadows.

Life was weird.

He wanted to get back to the house as soon as he could. He wanted to brush his teeth, and strip off everything but his drawers, and slip into bed next to Babbette, curl himself around her, and go to sleep to the sound of “Bob’s” deep breathing.

But, because of the regular retainer he was paid by Mr Stark, and the many things that Mr Stark did for him and for Bob, and for their families. And for everything he did for their neighborhoods… David would stand here and wait for Cole and Curt to arrive.

He had been sending occasional location updates to Cole’s Pingo Account as the slow moving herd of undead moved through the Fan District streets.

David had had a few run-ins with the agents of Mr Amra, or whatever he was calling himself this century, over the years. Blessedly few, though, he would be the first to admit. He slowly reached to the back pocket of his trousers, checking again that he had his “jump rope” handy.

He could see at least three of the white suited men herding the undead along the street. Elgin had hinted that they may have had a freelance talent working with them, and that David should both keep an eye out for such a person.

The SunRize Corporation had the reach, influence, and funding to afford hiring quality talents in their endeavors.

David had been told he was to report on movement and location, but otherwise stay hidden or run if it came to it.

He had played at being a hero years ago.

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In the end it meant he had made choices that left him scarred, and made him lose close friends. If he could go back and do it all again, he honestly didn’t know if he would make those same choices.

Over the course of almost a half an hour, David had flitted from one set of deep shadows to the next as he had kept watch. After two more blocks, he had confirmed what he had been told to look for. The group was moving, slowly and sloppily, toward the safe house.

He wasn’t sure who Elgin had stashed in the cozy residence that heavy enchantments kept well hidden. Aside from a general sense of the neighborhood itself, David didn’t know the exact location of the safe house.

That was a part of the enchantment as well. Only those who Stark wanted to know, could know. David knew where it was once.

And had slept there himself for almost a month.

But that had been back in his original grad school days. More than a century ago.

And now two name changes, four houses, and three academic careers later, here he was… Slowly meandering through the Fan. Watching corpses walk.

Waiting for Curt and Cole.

And speak of the horrifying monsters, and they slowly appear out of the gloom. He thought as the two much younger men silently approached him through the alley in which he now hunkered.

David could see Curt and Cole as they slowly walked to him, serious looks on their faces. Cole’s face, like his own, was a narrow face with a pointed chin and high cheekbone. His eyes were, generously, just a shade too hazel to be called brown, and his curly brown hair was mousy and as mildly a brown enough to not be called “dirty blond.”

Curt slowly and silently strode alongside his petite coworker. While some men will look taller by standing next to a short man, Curt loomed over the much shorter Cole as he would tower over almost anyone else. The man was tall.

Curt also had the broad, heavy physique of a man who worked hard to not become fat. Wide shoulders and thick slabs of muscle made the man look like a study in architecture rather than biology.

David had been jealous of bigger men when he had been young. But age, even the relatively young age of two centuries by his people’s standards, had given him a solid perspective on most of the personal matters he had had in his youth.

While it was mostly “Young me was a moron.” He had learned some nuanced things about himself in relation to the world over the years.

Things like “Sure, Curt can reach the top cabinet in the kitchen, but how often does he smack his head on door frames and shelves?”

And “I can find comfortable clothing that looks good off the rack.”

Of course, the flip side of this is the realization that while he and Cole can blend into the background if they concentrate on their personal magics, they will never be able to do what Curt can do when he drops his glamour.

As the two approached, David pointed at the retreating forms of shambling dead bodies being shuffled along the streets by a few men in mostly clean, white suits.

He watched as Cole, small and unthreatening as he usually was, began to blur about his edges, and became difficult to look directly at. His edges stretched out and blended with the colors of the night around him, while at his center of mass, the overall color scheme of his clothing, and even his skin where it could be seen, simply faded into the ever-present background.

Glancing to his left, David saw Curt close his eyes, and inhale slowly. With a visible effort, the big man exhaled slowly.

As his breath steamed from his flared nostrils in the damp night air, the large man grew even larger. The wide muscular body widened even further, the very width of his arms and legs expanded as his body released the spells that hid his true size from the modern world.

Within moments a three and a half meter man shaped form stood over David, while next to him, there was void in the air that David only knew existed because he had seen Cole “Blend” into the world about him.

He nodded at the two, and pushed himself back into the shadows more. David knew he couldn’t have matched his friend and colleague for “Blending” skills, but his own people were close cousins to Coles, and he could fade into obscurity at need.

And a horde of roving dead in the city counted as “need.”

The three turned to the undead.

Curt lifted Cole up to his shoulder with one hand, and motioned for David to stay with the other.

David was gratified to see Curt gestured to a spot off to David’s right.

David let his hand show, and signaled “Go.”

And Curt lumbered forward.

At his third stride, the huge young man was running, and Cole, that blurry spot on Curt’s right shoulder, was apparently using his skills to dampen the sound of the huge man’s tread on the textured street of Franklin Avenue.

This will get messy quick… thought David with a smile.